Sea Glass
by PrincessJade
Summary: AU: At the tender age of fourteen, Usagi Tsukino finds a lover in the man next door—but when he picks up & leaves without so much as a word, she learns that loving doesn't necessarily mean letting go.


**Summary**:

AU: At the tender age of fourteen, Usagi Tsukino finds a lover in the man next door—but when he picks up & leaves without so much as a word, she learns that loving doesn't necessarily mean letting go.

**Dearest Readers**:

This story is rated M for maturity and is a collaboration between PrincessJade and Querida Usagi (aka: Mel & Sam). It is a full collaboration, meaning that we both work on each and every chapter, with each word lovingly chosen and approved from both sides. We adore reviews, so please, let us know what you think! Much love!

**Sea Glass**

_Prologue: Cry Your Name_

It was two o'clock in the morning and Usagi Tsukino was not at home.

Had she been honest with her parents, there might have been an armada of police already on its way, but instead she had chosen what came easiest—lies. Yet, even she had been surprised at how effortlessly they emerged, rolling off her tongue like the ocean tide.

"_Rei is having a sleepover, Mom."_

She scoffed and pressed her face into her tiny hands. No, she would not cry. She wouldn't. She would not be weak. Still, when she pulled back, tasting the salt of her tears, she finally let go of her despair, allowing it to ripple and grow, as she recalled the weak assurances she had given her mother.

"_No, don't worry—everything's fine. Really, I promise."_

Bitterly, Usagi knew she was far from fine.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been so blind? For years, she had considered herself a controlled person, someone who had restraint and common sense, traits she had used throughout her life. She had been responsible, collected, and so sure that—

Pushing those dangerous thoughts from her mind, Usagi stared forlornly at the crashing waves before her. They were dark, like the blue of his—no, they were darker, almost black, the color of her despair. She took a deep breath and tried to let the rushing water, rhythmically lapping against the rocks that lined the shore, soothe her.

The evening air was heavy, almost oppressively so, as she crawled up onto the biggest rock and brought her knees to her chest. Looking out to sea, she studied the moon, hanging full and bright, and knew that it was mocking her with its perfection—its rays highlighting all the things she wanted to forget. Gingerly, she ran her thumb across her wrist, where her skin was darkened from his love-bite. And she remembered the look he had given her, so full of heat and intensity, and most importantly—at the time, she had been so sure, so confident—his gaze had been full of love.

She supposed, feeling the sharpness of his betrayal, that what hurt the most had been his kindness—his lips and hands no more than a whisper across her skin.

Of course it had been hesitant and, she a nervous bundle of sensation, knew it most certainly had not been anything particularly graceful. There had been an awkwardness to their movements, she unsure of where to put her hands, he afraid to crush her, but still, despite all of that, there had been emotion. She had seen it, a flicker in his eyes, a subtle widening of pupils—or, hating the doubt she now felt, had she just imagined it all? Imagined that he cared for her as much as she did for him, as his broad hands had covered her entire body, worshipping her gangly limbs and slender hips.

Usagi laughed at her stupidity, listening how the water echoed back its lonely sound. How naïve she had been! How could she have possibly believed that a twenty-year-old man could be in love her. Carefully, she dismounted from her place atop the boulders, and leant her face against its jagged surface.

How pathetic she must have sounded, she thought with distain, humiliation coloring her cheeks.

"_M-Mamo… Mamo-chan…"_

"_I need you."_

"_I want you."_

She was disgusted with herself. She had bared her soul and then promptly opened her legs for him, all the while imagining their future and the sweetness of all the nights to come. And where had had her stupid actions gotten her? Nowhere.

For when she had gone to his apartment the next day, hoping to surprise him, she discovered Motoki instead, packing some books into a crate. He told her, in a rather perplexed fashion, that Mamoru had left this morning for America and that he had been planning to go there for months now.

_Why Usagi-san, didn't Mamoru tell you?_

Suddenly, all she could feel was the anger. It pulsed through her. It gave her strength. Furious, she snatched up a rock and tossed it with malice at the dark waters. But much to her dissatisfaction, it only disappeared beneath the water with a demure splash. She then kicked resentfully at the pale sand, tears sliding quickly down her chin. The wind had picked up, almost as if it could sense her mood, and tossed her silvery strands about.

He had used her, that piece of shit. He had stood there and seduced her with his sapphire eyes and clever hands, knowing full well that he'd be rid of her by morning.

Falling to her knees, she grabbed at the first thing she could and—

"Shit!" She cried out in pain, watching as a line of red blossomed across her skin. Sucking on her finger, she waited for the pain to subside before she glanced at the offending object that had cut her. It was glass, quite beautiful really, if she felt like admitting it.

Delicately, she picked up the—well, what looked to her to be an exaggerated sort of bottle—and turned the remnants of it over in her hands. It was the most beautiful color, a champagne blue, and she noticed that there seemed to be an impression at its bottom. She squinted and brushed away particles of sand.

It was a name.

And Usagi gasped for air, chest heaving, for what must have been the millionth time that night. Had she lost her mind? Running her fingers across the raised surface, she traced the tiny letters in astonishment and told the shimmering sky—

"Mamoru—it says Mamoru."


End file.
